


Masks

by Woolfsbane (rapture_boy)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapture_boy/pseuds/Woolfsbane
Summary: The material realm is caught as the chessboard in a game between gods. While other heroes may be trying to untangle the messy work of the immortals, the country of Roane descends into bloody warfare and poverty, leaving many washed up and desperate to live. Cobalt is one of those people, and her determination to survive will drive her into the nets of a world wrought by political and divine corruption and deceit.





	1. Year Zero

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this as a sort of writing practice, so the organization of the stories may be confusing at times (it's difficult to adapt a campaign into a written story). Rather than chapters this is organized primarily by years, though some of the years may take up more than one chapter.

“I’ll show them all that I deserve better than this place,” Cobalt thought angrily to herself. She ignored the sting of her tears as they burned down her cheeks. Her thundered in her chest. Was this really the right thing to do? She clutched her weapon close to her chest with her free hand; the other was wrapped around her horse’s reins. It was her weapon, after all, and she was allowed to do with it what she pleased. If it could be used to get her what she desired, that was all that mattered. It was all she had left. She supposed that the horse was hers now as well, considering that she had stolen it from her brother. She tried not to think of him; of his eyes. His eyes must be hurting him.

She had been there when they brought him in from the field. “Stay inside the tavern. Let no one in unless you recognize them.” Those had been his words. What could she do, then, when strangers brought him in? Boron, her brother once, now mangled beyond her recognition. She let him in, even though she no longer knew him.

“It was their king,” they said. “He came at him like a wolf, clawed out his eyes like some animal.” And she believed them.

This new king of Gorvena, fabled among the soldiers to be a devil, was known for such acts of cruelty. She knew, on a factual note, that these fables ought not to be believed. It was not the fault of modern tieflings that they traced their lineage back to the Nine Hells. And yet, when she saw her brother, bloodied and sobbing (although she knew he could no longer shed tears), she found truth in the words of the soldiers. Perhaps the king was a demon. She sat on the floor by his bed as the men set about changing his bandages. The three soldiers that had brought him back home, back to his bedroom, were speaking softly. She assumed that they were addressing her, but she couldn’t hear them. Who was this stranger in Boron’s bed, bleeding into his sheets? Who was this person, holding out their hands and crying out:  "I can’t see my hands!” over and over? She knew it was her brother, on a factual note. She just couldn’t get herself to see him. Such was the war for Cobalt. She spent her days waiting for her brother to come home, yet when he did he was no longer himself. And the war continued on.

She spent her days alone, except for when she changed her brother’s bandages. It was here that she began to work, in pen and ink, on a mechanism that she believed could kill that demon king. It started small and simple, just some sketches and simple numbers. As she worked, however, the numbers became more exact, and the drawing more realistic. She came up with a shopping list of the things she’d need to create what she believed to be a perfect weapon. She saved up enough money to commission a blacksmith to craft for her the metal workings of her sketches. A barrel, some metal ammunition. A contraption, which the old blacksmith never fully understood, to fire the thing. Once she had assembled that much, it was simple thievery from there. She knew that the soldiers in her town had powder for flares and fireworks. She also knew that this powder was expensive, and off-limits to the civilians. So she snuck in during the night, after some activity to the west of the town drew the focus away from the powder reserves. Knowing that it would be unlikely for her to get a second chance, she took enough of the powder to fill two small bags.

She waited until Boron was asleep each night before she would work on her invention. Even though she knew he was blind, she still feared that he would somehow know what she was doing. She would tell him, she told herself, but not until she knew it worked. This is how she lived during the war. She took care of her brother and the tavern by day, and worked by night.

\---

This was the state of things when the traveling troupe of magicians and fighters her sister belonged to returned. It was late afternoon when they arrived, and Cobalt had been counting up the money from the night before. She nearly didn’t recognize her adopted sister when she came, considering that it had been six years since she last saw her. Cobalt assumed the worst, and had given up all hopes of seeing her again. But there she was, remarkably unchanged. Cobalt hugged her, although she couldn’t really feel it through the shock of the experience. With Eleki, her sister, were the other four people that she worked with. Cobalt remembered them each vaguely from their last encounter, which had been when she was about ten years of age. If anyone would be able to help her get this weapon to the elven generals, it would be these people, she thought.

With that, she ran upstairs to her room, and extracted the box she kept it in. To her sister and her friends, Cobalt unveiled the country’s very first gun. She tried her best to explain that it could be used to defeat the tiefling armies, and win the war for the elven generals. She beamed at them, so proudly, until she saw the horror on their faces. “Mechanized destruction” were the words that they had for her creation. “The demon king isn’t a demon, but our friend,” said another. Cobalt felt something in her throat catch at that. A friend? How could her sister’s comrades be friends with someone that had shredded her brother’s eyes? Eleki, at least, was enraged alongside her. But still, she urged her not to show the gun to anyone else.

“There are things more important than this war,” they said, “You’ll regret it if you give the generals a weapon like this.”

How easy it was, thought Cobalt, for them. They hadn’t been cold and hungry for the past six years, alone while their families went to battle. They didn’t understand. Cobalt didn’t care much about winning or losing the war. No, she just wanted justice for Boron, and for herself, for she had grown up to know the things that she was missing. More importantly than anything else, this war taught her that she had nothing; that she might die without ever being anything. This thought was what drove her at night when she worked with her gun, tending to it the way a mother might tend to an infant.

“I can’t die a nameless death,” she thought, “I can’t die a nameless death in this nameless town, never knowing what lies beyond its borders.” She repeated thoughts such as these when she felt exhaustion creeping at her eyes, or hunger in her stomach. They made her push on. The generals, to them, seemed like monsters. Vamiris and Zenreth Danieros. The first time Cobalt heard these names she had been twelve years old. Boron had just signed on as a melee soldier for Zenreth’s army. He and some of his friends were drinking to celebrate the start of what each of them hoped would be the road out of poverty. Zenreth promised that each soldier that fought for him would be rewarded handsomely. “Enough gold to keep a family fed for ten years,” was what everyone seemed to be repeating.

Whether the statement was truthful or not, it was worth the gamble to Boron. He and Cobalt had quite nearly starved the previous winter; the hunger was still evident in Cobalt’s hollow cheeks. With a promise of gold and food, Cobalt, young as she was, smiled for her brother that night. And for a time, it seemed as though things would truly go well for them. Boron’s military pay was enough to support the tavern in his absence for about two years. But the war was lingering, the soldiers said. Even powerful men like Zenreth were beginning to feel the effects of the tieflings’ resistance. It became common knowledge that a tiefling soldier was worth more than the elven troops. Morale sank deeply in the small town.

If the elven soldiers were having a bad time of it, then what did that mean for their human allies? Nobody knew until the bodies started to turn up. First it was the blacksmith’s son. He had been one of the friends that celebrated with Boron just two years prior. Cobalt saw them bring him in. She had hidden herself on the roof of the blacksmith’s home, curious as to what the commotion was. What she saw was nothing more than two men, dressed in black, trying to console the family. One of the men carried a medium sized box, the contents of which seemed to be causing the blacksmith’s wife to cry. It was then that Cobalt saw the small drops of red that leaked through the bottom of the container, slowly forming a dark puddle on the ground. Cobalt felt acutely ill. It wasn’t long until the other two men returned. The next appeared that winter. At least his family got to bury their whole son. Cobalt attended the small funeral.

It was becoming too easy for her to worry that Boron would be the next to come home in a box or white sheet. It was in these years, alone without either of her siblings, that Cobalt began to grow up. She knew from a young age that hardship can make young people into adults quickly; Boron had the tavern from the age of sixteen; Eleki her sword since twelve. But the two of them had sheltered her. She spent her days playing ‘knights and dragons’ with her friends, all the while unaware that she was living anything other than an ordinary life. She loved playing the villains back then. By hiding and running from her friends during their games, she got to the point at which it was near impossible to catch her. This came in handy for her as she got older.

As she rode eastward on her stolen horse, Cobalt recalled the first time that she applied her games of hide and seek to real life. It had been during a particularly hot summer’s day, about seven years prior:

“Cobalt, look!” whispered Mary. “What?” Said Cobalt dully. The day was hot, and she just wanted to go home and nap. She had been told to stay with Mary all day as a sort of sitter, despite the fact that she was only a few years older. They spent the morning playing princess, and quite frankly Cobalt thought she’d die of boredom if she had to make another flower crown.

“There! In the alley! Do you think that he’s is in trouble?” Mary whispered again, this time pointing to an alley across the dirty street. Her brown eyes were huge with excitement. “Those soldiers seem to be asking him for something. Coby, do you think he’s in trouble?”

Cobalt’s gaze moved to where Mary was pointing. There was, in fact, a soldier. He seemed to be talking intently with one of older boys in town. His name was Markus. He was one of the kids that was too young to fight, but also too old to truly be considered a child. Cobalt narrowed her eyes. Had he lost his papers? No, perhaps not. It seemed to her that he was holding a small coin purse in his hands.

“Oh, Cobalt, I think he’s getting robbed! That’s awful! Should we go and get Boron?” Mary said earnestly, tugging at Cobalt’s hand.

“He’s busy working right now. He’ll just yell at us if we go bother him.” Cobalt replied. She was still focused on the soldier, who now had his hands on the coins. It was then that Cobalt had an idea. She looked at Mary, a girl of about eight, very seriously. “Mary, I think that there’s a spider in your hair.”

Mary shrieked and began to cry, just as Cobalt had expected. The soldier’s head whipped around as he looked for the source of the sound, and he placed the coin purse in his coat pocket. This granted Markus just enough time to get away. Cobalt moved over towards the alley as Mary continued to cry. Her diversion was working; the soldier was now walking in Cobalt’s direction; on his way to Mary, no doubt. Cobalt made sure not to make eye contact with him as they approached each other.

As she passed him, she made a point of walking too close to him; they collided, shoulder to shoulder. She let out a small, staged gasp. He apologized briefly, pausing in his stride. Deftly, as the two of them turned to grant each other the space they needed to walk, Cobalt slide her hand into his pocket, extracting the coin purse. Before he could notice she shoved it under her shirt. She glanced back at Mary once she had crossed the street. She saw the soldier kneel down, patting Mary on the head. Satisfied with her work, she glanced at the purse. In it were several copper pieces and a few silver pieces. She took three coppers and one silver for herself, sliding them into her own pocket, before she went to find Markus. She found him nearby, looking the way one looks after they’ve been badly embarrassed. She walked up to him, putting on her most innocent face.

“Excuse me? I found this coin purse in the street. Do you know who it belongs to?” She said, looking up at him. She blinked slowly, so that her eyes might seem bigger. Markus looked gobsmacked.

“Y-yeah, that’s mine. Funny that you found it. I must’ve dropped it or something.” He said. She knew that he was trying to save face, so she didn’t let on that she had seen how frightened he was by that soldier. She tilted her head at him as she smiled.

“Well, what matters is that you have it back! Have a good day!” She said. She turned on her heel and waved as he looked at his purse with disbelief. She looked across the street and saw that the soldier was gone, and that Mary was beginning to look for her. Cobalt waved, and she snickered slightly to herself. Easy. She toyed with the coins in her pocket. She supposed that she ought to feel guilty, but she also knew that she’d be able to buy meat that night.

Cobalt wasn’t sure how long she had been riding, or really even what direction she was going in at this point. She knew it was nighttime, and that it had been for a while. Any remnants of civilization seemed to have been left behind long ago, and it was dark. Darker, really, than any night she had experienced before. In the town, there were always street lamps, or the warm glow of houses. Out here, miles away from anywhere, there was nothing but cold bleakness. She knew that, provided she was heading northeast, she would approach the outskirts of Roatia, the capital city, in a matter of days. What she didn’t know was that she was heading due north. In her haste to escape the judgement of her sister, she forgot to pack a map.

Eventually, she allowed the horse to slow from a gallop to a trot, and then from a trot to a walk. She stopped her horse, and dismounted gracelessly. Riding had not been a part of her youth. She led her horse on foot until she found what she believed to be a suitable rest stop: A large tree, with low-hanging branches. She tied the horse to a branch before she set up her small, make-shift tent. Clutching her gun close to her chest, she slept.

With the morning came rain. Cobalt stood, soaking wet, under the tree for close to an hour, trying to determine which direction to ride in without the help of the sun. Frustrated and cold, she decided to simply continue going the way that she had been the night before. Hopefully she’d reach a town soon, so that she could ask for some directions. The weather made for slow travels, as it was tricky footing for her horse. Luckily, this gave her a chance to really take in her new surroundings. The first thing she noticed were the huge black scars on the ground. The night had kept these marks hidden from her earlier, but they were telltale signs that there had been a battle recently. She wondered, as a pit formed in her stomach, just how recently.

It began to sink in that not only was there still very much a war going on in the area, but that she was a lone half-elf, female, and only a few weeks over fifteen. “This is complete madness,” she thought bitterly. “I’m going to die out here, or worse, be found by tiefling soldiers.” She tried not to allow herself to think too hard about what, exactly, those soldiers might do to her. Soon, to her relief, the blackened fields gave way into rolling hills and valleys. There were still deep wounds in the ground from powerful spells, but they looked as though they had begun to recover. She sighed, relieved of her fear for a time. She wondered where she was, and about the battle that had taken place. Had the elves won, or was it the tieflings? Were many people killed? Was it possible that one of the generals Danieros had been there, and could be close by? She felt her chest flutter.

She had met one of their daughters, Briyana, just the previous day. She smiled to herself, knowing that that could be a good introduction if she ran into one of the generals during her travels. Her smile soon faded when she remembered the look on Briyana’s face when she showed her the gun. She’d looked at Cobalt like no one else had before; with pure heartbreak. What was it that she had dreaded so? Surely her parents would be able to help, since they were powerful and respected leaders. Why was Briyana so afraid, and so sad? It occurred again to Cobalt just how bizarre it was that a daughter of the Danieros family, one of the most powerful in the country, would choose to travel with such a mismatched group. Why would anyone give up the comforts of a noble life in favor of traveling in rags, never knowing whether you’d survive through the night? Cobalt couldn’t fathom it. All her life, all she’d wanted was to feel safe. To be able to sleep with a full belly. To live without the fear of the winter cold. Why would anyone ever choose to live a life like her, especially if their parents were so strong and intelligent?

It was truly knowledge that Cobalt craved above all else at this point. Yes, she wanted safety and comfort, but what she desired most from those things was the ability to learn without restriction. Books had never been a part of her life until recently. A month ago, to be exact. He had appeared in the middle of the night, startling the guards that were on duty. She hadn’t been the first to see him, but from what she heard he had been truly something to behold. The people that had seen him described him with one word: Otherworldly. Some said that he was made out of silver, others that he simply glowed. None of this was true when Cobalt saw him the following day, however. The word she would have used was “sickly.” He mostly just looked gray to her. His skin was ashy, and his hair was what could only be described as blackish blond (though she really didn’t get close enough to tell). She watched him from the rooftops, as she frequently did with newcomers. There was something different about him, though, that caught her interest.

Rather than carrying any sort of weapons or trade materials, he was carrying books. Tomes, to be exact, and the pages seemed to spill everywhere. She followed him as he wandered through the town; buying things, meeting with people, taking notes. She found him peculiar. He seemed to be an elf, though not like any that she had seen before. Also, as the day went on, Cobalt could swear that she saw his skin and hair begin to brighten. Eventually, evening came, and with it darkness. Cobalt, emboldened by the cover of dark, came down from the rooftops in order to get closer to the newcomer. Mostly she wanted to know what he was asking people about. She approached him from the side of a building, making sure that she was angled such that she would be invisible. He seemed to be speaking with the some of the town elders. As she got closer, she was better able to hear what was being said.

“You said that you’re name was Blackwood, eh? As in the Blackwood family?” Said one of the elders, an old man by the name of Seeley.

“Yes, the very same. I was wondering if you happened to have any of the books I left here, some century or so ago? It would likely have been left with your grandfather, or great-grandfather? Perhaps mother? Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten over the years. They would have my name and seal on the inside covers.” Said the stranger, his voice smoothed by an accent that Cobalt didn’t recognize.

“Hm...Don’t have many readers around here, m’lord. Likely any books would be in the attic here. Let me send my grandson up to look” Replied Seeley.

The stranger seemed to be growing impatient. He adjusted his pack across his shoulders, as if the weight of the books was bothering him. With his free hand he pushed a shock of ash-colored hair off of his neck. “Hm, very well. Please, do hurry though. There are matters here that are quite time sensitive.” he replied. What was his accent?

The old man muttered something about youth, and the hurry it causes, before disappearing inside.

Cobalt inched closer, trying to get a look at what the strange man was carrying. She saw books, with titles in illegible script (not that she could read, as it was). She regretted deeply, once again, not having demanded reading lessons from Boron before he was blinded. She froze mid-thought, however, as the man turned his head ever so slightly in her direction; his pointed elven ears angled towards where she stood. She became silent as the night itself, willing herself to disappear completely. It seemed to work, since soon he turned away from her again.

The old man reappeared, with two large books in his hands. “Are these the books you were talking about, m’lord? They’re the only two that were up there that weren’t about plants or livestock.” He said. The stranger jumped to life, practically grabbing the books out of the old man’s hands. He seemed not to have heard him speak.

“Aha, yes! Excellent, my field notes from the first war...And the old genealogy books. Good, good, the chapters are still complete. Some odds and ends may need to be scrapped, especially about the Gods and the war, but besides that…” Then the stranger cut himself off. He thanked the old man, and handed him what Cobalt could only assume was money.

But what was so important about the books? And what was that about gods? What had been in those books? From that night on, Cobalt had asked herself that at least once a day. Oh, how she longed to read. She had so many questions, and each day she thought of more. Each hour brought her closer to the same, miserable conclusion: She needed to leave. She knew that the only way that she would ever get answers was by leaving, even though the idea made her want to cry at times. This town, for better or worse, was her home. She had fond memories there. She remembered breaking her arm when she was tiny, and how Eleki had held her in her lap as Boron wrapped it. And the time she made a toy sword from metal scraps. That day had been the one when Eleki left to go travel with those strangers. Cobalt remembered that she had wanted to go as well, to go on an adventure. Boron and Eleki both forbade it, though, as she was only ten at the time.

But even then, she supposed, she knew that she’d need to leave. And leave she did. She went in the most painful way possible, with Eleki furious at her and Boron already mourning her as if she were dead. The sight of smoke on the horizon pulled Cobalt out of her reverie. She blinked a few times, just to make sure that she wasn’t imagining it. No, that was certainly smoke. She tried to figure just how far away it was, based on the wind. She decided that it was at least a quarter mile to her east. She got closer to it before she tied her horse, moving on foot for added stealth. It was near impossible to find any sort of cover in the Mid-Plains of Roane. The country was almost perfectly flat until you either hit the northwestern mountains or the coast. She willed herself to become small; to blend into the surrounding gray of the mud and sky. This, she thought, shouldn’t be too hard. She was wearing her heavy black cargo pants (fashioned by herself, in order to accommodate her various tools and daggers), and a grey cloak. She managed to spot the source of the smoke while staying reasonably far away. It was from a campfire near a single tent. She squinted, narrowing her eyes to try to decipher whether the tent was military, and if so whose army it belonged to. Nonmilitary. She could tell based on the vague outline that it lacked the rigid structure of a martial tent. She turned back. Her mission was now to determine who this person was, and what she could get from them. She would need to wait for nightfall, however, so she may as well wait with the horse.

She slept for most of the rest of the day. She knew that it would require her maximum amount of focus to search a tent, especially if she ended up taking anything. She didn’t know how dangerous the owner might be, and she wasn’t planning on finding out. She held her dagger, unsheathed, by her side as she rested. Better fast and messy than trying to get her gun out, should she be attacked. When she awoke, it was dusk. She checked her horse and her packs: nothing was stolen. She breathed a quick sigh of relief, and patted her horse on his nose gently before disappearing into the night. She pulled her shoulder-length hair into a violently tangled braid, her already messy locks now filthy from travel and rain. She had alway been prone to frizzy hair in bad weather, but she hadn’t truly understood just how itchy it could be until now, when she needed her mind to focus on the task at hand. 

She made her way to the camp much quicker now that she had the night on her side. She felt her pulse quicken and her eyes widen. Somewhere in her chest she felt something swell with excitement. She was having fun. She saw that the fire was still active, but burning lower. She was within just ten or twenty feet of the tent; close enough that she could smell the intoxicating scent of whatever the person had eaten for dinner. She realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since she left home the night before. She added that to her list of mental notes.

She determined that, based on the light of the fire, it would be best to approach the camp from the side rather than the back, in order to avoid casting a shadow against the tent’s walls. She wasn’t sure whether the tent’s occupant was inside or not. She approached the tent, dagger in her left hand, the fingers of her right rested on the edge of her holster. She knelt down by the edge of the tent, making no sound save for her pulse. She willed herself to become as cool and quiet as the night air around her.

She closed her eyes firmly, gathering her nerves, before she pulled a small mirror out of one of her pants’ pocket. She held it out in front of her, tilting it so as to see around the corner. She could see the fire, front of the tent, and a few bags. There didn’t seem to be anyone outside. She closed the mirror and tightened her grip on her dagger. “Mustn’t breathe.” She thought.

“And why, pray tell, is a child lurking in the dark?” Said a voice, heavy with an unfamiliar accent. Melodic in nature, yet somehow threatening.

Cobalt whipped around and was met by a pair of brilliantly blue, fey-like eyes. The whites gleamed silver in the lowlight. She lunged at him viciously with her knife, slicing through part of his velvet robe as he dodged her. She spun on her heel and had her gun drawn in a moment. She pointed it over her shoulder and fired, adrenaline burning in her veins. But it had been a misfire. She dropped the gun as the small explosion in the barrel burnt her hand, causing her to shout a string of profanities. The man simply regarded her, and the gun, with a cold, scrutinizing glare. He knelt down slowly and picked up the broken weapon, turning it tenderly in his hands. He then turned his icy gaze back to meet Cobalt’s. She commanded herself not to look away; to match the weight of his stare.

“How peculiar a thing this is. Tell me, girl, where did you get this? Who did you steal this from?” He said.

She could have sworn that she had heard a voice like his before; one with the same otherworldly intonation.

“I didn't steal it.” Said Cobalt, pushing herself up onto her feet. She stood up as tall as she could, although the man had more than a foot of height against her. She wiped the blood and gunpowder off of her hands with her cloak. “Now, please give it back.”

“Give it back? You made this? How very odd. I was not aware of any craftsmages around these parts.” He said. He held out the back of the gun to her. “I don’t suppose you were going to kill me, were you?” He seemed to smile.

“Of course not. I was never going to, except that you startled me.” She snatched the gun from his hands. “And it’s not magic. If it were magic, maybe it wouldn’t break so easily.” She said bitterly. He laughed.

“Perhaps so, but magic has been known to be fickle in its own way. May I ask your name, my dear?” He spoke to her with absolute confidence, as if she hadn't just pointed a gun at his head. His voice sounded nearly musical.

“Only if you tell me your name, and why you’re out here.” She held out her hand, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

He chuckled to himself as he gripped her small hand firmly. Cobalt immediately tore her eyes away from his so as to stare at his hand, which was cold as death itself. She realized, with a sickening fear, that his skin was nearly gray in color. She looked back up at his face. His eyes were indeed gleaming blue, but it was not the lights that made them look so bright. The whites of his eyes were silver, which caused the blue to seem unnaturally brilliant. His hair was bizarre as well; nearly white at the roots, but blackened through to the ends. What was he? Why was he so familiar? Where had she seen him before? 

She was pulled back into reality by his voice, which seemed to resonate like a song. “My name, little one, is Blackwood. Seilien Blackwood.”

That name. Cobalt had heard it before. It was the same man that had come to her village just a month earlier, asking about the books. Why was he back? And what was a man like him, bookish and ill-equipped for the wilderness, doing alone?

“I’m Cobalt.” She said. She supposed she could have been more eloquent, but words seemed to have evaded her. He didn’t let go of her hand.

“Excellent. Now, Cobalt, would you please tell me why, precisely, you came to my camp? Was it to rob me? Be honest. I will not blame you for treacherous intent.” He spoke almost in a whisper, and his voice inexplicably caused Cobalt’s blood to freeze. She could swear she felt his grip on her hand tighten.

“I don’t know. I wanted to see who you were. I guess I might've robbed you if you had anything I needed. I was just curious.” She spoke quickly, panic creeping into her voice. She figured now wasn’t the time to lie, although her instincts screamed for her to do so. She knew, somehow, that this man would see through any falsehood she might say. She tried pulling her hand away slightly, but to no avail. He gripped it tighter, his blue eyes searching hers. She looked at her hand quickly, then back up at him. She could have sworn she saw a glint in his eye as he let her hand go. He seemed satisfied with her answer.

“Curiosity is not to be taken lightly. It can get one into a nasty bind when followed blindly.” The cadence of his voice was slow. He spoke with a slight smile. “Now, where are you taking that peculiar object of yours, Cobalt?”

“Nowhere.” She said, averting her eyes.

“Lies are dangerous things.” His gaze tore into hers again, unwavering.

“I ain't lying.” She tried to escape his gaze once more, but he gripped her chin with one of his cold hands. “The generals. I want to take it to one of the generals.” She gave in.

She could feel fear at the back of her throat; his fingertips on her face felt like ice. Suddenly, he let go. His body relaxed slightly, and he allowed her to step away from him. He smiled at her warmly.

“The Lord and Lady Danieros. An interesting choice of allegiance.” He said, almost flatly.

“How's that? I’m sure they can pay me for this. If they like it well enough, maybe they’ll take me as an apprentice or something. I could go to school or whatever rich kids do,” Cobalt said, her face beginning to glow as she spoke of her plans. Her fear was lost in her exuberance, which made Seilien smile with her. “The opportunity's too valuable to ignore. And what've I got to lose by trying?”

“The pursuit of an education is always a noble one. I commend you for that," his smile waned slightly, "but it won’t be an easy one, or even a clear path at times, and the Daneiros family may not be as helpful as you hope. Come, sit with me for a bit and rest.” He said.

She watched as he slowly seated himself on a log by the low-burning fire. He folded his robes neatly around his ankles, and gestured for her to join him. He wasn’t nearly so intimidating to her now, as he had finally given her some personal space. She knelt on the ground on the opposite side of the fire from him, keeping enough space so that she was reasonably certain that she could escape if need be. After staring at the flames for a few moments, she looked back at him. She noticed now how outdated his clothing was. The velvet robe and shoes were similar to those seen in painting from previous centuries. Despite this, she could tell from the quality of the materials that he was likely quite wealthy. She felt a bit self-conscious now, and tried to discreetly neaten her hair and dust off her pants.

“Tell me a bit about this contraption of yours. A gun, I think you called it?” He said.

“Mhm. What do you want to know about it? It’s not especially complicated.” She said, quietly. She toyed with a loose string on her pants to avoid making eye contact She glanced up at him once, but quickly averted her gaze when she met his eyes. He stared at her intently; unblinking, like a snake.

“First of all, I’d like to know why you built it, and what you built it for,” he said calmly.

“I was bored, and worried about being safe. I wanted something that I could use for protection that would be strong like a greatsword, but light enough for me to use.”

“If you made it for yourself, then why do you want to bring it to the generals? You know that they will take it from you, likely without paying you the price it deserves. Martial figures tend to lack respect for innovation.” Said Seilien.

“Really? I thought that, out of everyone, they'd value it the most. It’s really effective as a weapon, too. I tested it myself.".

“You did, did you? Tell me, how did it work?” He asked, leaning forward.

“It did pretty well. Pierced through a tiefling’s armor from fifty feet away.” She smiled as she spoke of this success.

“Pierced his armor? Did he die?” Asked Seilien, his face grave.

“Die? I think so...I mean, he fell down and didn’t get up. Didn’t stay long enough to find out whether he was truly dead or not.” She suddenly felt very small.

Seilien sighed and shook his head slightly, as if he were disappointed. Cobalt felt her stomach drop. Would arrest her for murder? Could he? It was a war, after all, so she was within her right to test out a potential weapon. She felt uncertain now. She had been so confident that what she did was justified, but now not so much. The questions flooded her mind.

“Why do you look so upset, child?” Said Seilien after a moment. Cobalt, roused from her anxious thoughts, looked back to him. She found it challenging to look directly at him; her eyes shifted back down to her hands after a few seconds. She gripped the hem of her cloak tightly.

“I just hadn’t really thought about him being dead, I guess.”

“You did what the moment bade you do, and there’s no progress gained by asking whether or not you ought to have done what you did,” said Seilien.

“But murder is illegal in this country.” Said Cobalt skeptically.

“Well, yes, but legality is something that only exists in a general sense, for general people in general conditions. You needed to test the effect of your gun, which was built to take life in order to protect your own, so of course you would need to kill to test it. A death or injury was inevitable.” He said, the corners of his mouth were drawn up in a slight smile as he spoke.

Cobalt paused before speaking. She did, in fact, understand all the he was saying. And she found comfort in it. Perhaps she had killed the tiefling. It didn’t matter now. If he was dead, he died so that she might be able to live a better life. If he survived, then nothing was lost. Either way she had answered her questions about the gun. It all made sense. 

Seilien’s eyes suddenly lost their focus, as if something in the distance had captured his attention. He hummed to himself, seemingly lost in the depths of thought. Cobalt watched him carefully; her right index finger snaked towards the dagger on her belt. Seilien turned his attention back to Cobalt, snapping the tension between the two. He stretched his back and yawned.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I seem to have gotten caught up in a thought. It’s getting quite late, and I ought to turn in. Will you be resting here?” He offered.

“No, I need to keep moving.” She said after a moment’s hesitation. Cobalt rose to her feet and ran a hand through her hair, hissing slightly as her fingers caught on tangles.

She dusted herself off and looked at him one last time, taking in his face.

“Thank you for the food. I wish you safe travels.” She said politely. Seilien walked with her to the edge of the camp. After a final, somewhat awkward goodbye, Cobalt turned on her heels and left.

Once she was out of the camp area, she ran. A wave of panic hit her, and she felt as if she had only narrowly escaped a fatal encounter, despite the fact the Seilien had neither threatened her nor pursued her. She stopped running once she ran out of breath and adrenaline. Panting, she looked back over her shoulder. No sign of the camp. She breathed a sigh of relief, and began walking back towards where she’d left her horse. She pulled her black cloak around her more tightly; she could feel goosebumps on her arms. So his name was Seilien, she thought to herself, provided that he was being honest with her, although Cobalt seriously doubted that anyone would make up an alias with a name as well known as Blackwood.

It was then that it occurred to her that she had left her horse alone for quite a while, and that she was still technically traveling through a battlefield. She picked up her pace a bit. The saddle packs held all of her supplies, and without them she’d surely die. She had utterly no hunting experience, and even if she did she didn’t have all of her extra ammunition and powder for her pistol. She broke into a jog, and then a sprint. By the time she reached the hill her sides ached. She searched for a moment in panic before she saw the outline of her horse behind a lone tree.

She stroked the horse's nose gently, and allowed herself to bask in the relief that it had not been harmed or stolen. “You’re a good creature, aren’t you?” She whispered to it softly “I ought to name you. What’s a good name for a plain brown horse?” The animal nuzzled her gently, looking for treats. She had nothing to give her, but she scratched it gently behind the ears. Maybe she wasn’t quite as alone as she thought she was. “I’ll name you Constance, since you’re my last piece of home. I think Boron would have liked that name too. What do you think?” She ran a hand across the mare’s mane, imagining to herself that Constance knew her name and liked it. Cobalt finally allowed herself to rest.

She awoke to cold. It was late summer, and fall could be felt in the bite of the morning wind. She hadn’t realized that you could sleep, not realizing you were cold, only to wake and find that your bones ached. She warmed her hands under Constance’s saddle pad, regretting her lack of a warm coat. Not that she’d had one at home to take with her. She wondered about Boron. He would be taken care of. He had to be. She headed east, following her ancient compass. She walked rather than rode, in the hopes it would warm her. It did, but it also left her hungry. She didn’t have much food left.

By her third day on her own she was running extremely low on food. Her water supply, thanks in part to the cold snap, was alright. She felt at least that she’d be able to find a place to rest before she’d run out of water. She knew how long she could last without food before things truly went bad. She’d been faced with it before. If she could manage an equivalent of a slice of bread a day, she’d have three weeks. On nothing, perhaps one. She scorned the war, for it had chased off any potential game and destroyed any potential crops that she might have been able to hunt or steal. The northern mountains were miles out of the way, but if things looked grim enough she knew she could get there in a matter of days. Hopefully they’d be untouched by war, and there would be something to eat. Constance, at least, was managing well on grass and stray puddles of rainwater. Cobalt hoped she wouldn’t get so desperate that she too would need to join her horse in drinking dirty water.

\---

Cobalt was lost somewhere between thought and fatigue when Constance stopped abruptly, startling Cobalt out of her reveries. She saw why. They had stumbled onto a fresher battlefield. Smoke still rose off the ground, the mud was still red from bloodshed. The stench of burnt flesh hung heavily in the air. She was glad that Constance had once been a warhorse.

A tiefling corpse reached out and grabbed her leg. Or rather, what she thought was a corpse. He held onto her firmly, but not aggressively. More like desperation. She knelt by him after prying his fingers off her ankle.

“Please,” said the corpse “please.” He mumbled off unintelligibly.

“What? I can’t hear you.” Said Cobalt. The man held onto her hand fiercely.

“...How bad is it?” He finally managed.

With his free hand he gestured at his abdomen. Under the sodden cloth and armor was a gash no less than two inches wide, and likely just as deep. Blackened, tar-like flesh surrounded the laceration. Cobalt kept the grimace off her face.

“It’s not good, mate.” Cobalt wracked her brain for anything useful “Do you know where your party went? How long have you been here?”

“Maybe a day or two. Elves came in, that was the last of it. Got hit by something bad.” He stopped to wretch. “They were gone within hours. Outnumbered us three to one. We tried to surrender.”

“Didn’t they stop?”

“Girl, have you ever met an elven officer?” He laughed, though it came out as wheezing. “Sooner slice their own brother down than yield.” He held her hand more tightly, urgently. “I’m afraid to die.”

Cobalt felt at a loss. She let him hold her hand, and used her other to stroke back his hair. She wished she could tell him he’d live. “I have a faster way for you to go, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to be stabbed again. I’ve had enough blades. Seen enough to know they ain’t quick enough.”

“It’s not a knife. And it’s faster than any blade.” The man’s eyelids were beginning to droop. He didn’t have much consciousness left.

“Promise?” He mumbled.

Cobalt quietly drew her pistol from her cloak’s pocket. She flicked off the safety, and positioned it near the tiefling’s temple. “I promise. Close your eyes.”

She freed her hand from his, stabilizing his head in her lap. She made sure the gun was positioned such that she wouldn’t accidentally hurt herself. With a loud bang, his face finally relaxed. Cobalt sat by him for several seconds. This time she knew. It hadn’t been a test.

\---

After the first week, she ran out of food. She hadn’t expected the road to Roatia to be so long. According to the maps (none of which she brought with her) she ought to have been there, or at least reached the border towns, within five days. She knew she was alright for now. She could starve for a few more days, so long as she rode rather than walked.

In truth, she didn’t recall falling off her horse. She woke up and it was dusk. She tried to stand up, but one of her legs was twisted strangely underneath her. She fell back onto her stomach. “Constance!” She called weakly. Her chest hurt.

“Look here, boys,” said a male voice. “We’ve got ourselves a yeller.” A large man with stubble kicked her over onto her back.

She clutched her sides and groaned. Soon, the man was joined by two others. One was small and wore a hood over his face; the other seemed to be a tower.

“D’you think we’d be able to get money for her in the capital?” Hissed the small one.

The first man prodded her with his foot. She spat at him, causing him to grab her by the collar.

“Aye, she’s got piss n’ vinegar in her yet. She’ll make a good penny in the auctions.” He smirked at her with twisted teeth. “Byron, carry her to the cart. Put her in with the rest of the stuff.” The gigantic man stepped forward and lifted her off the ground with ease. He carried her over to a covered wagon pulled by a draft horse. In the back he tossed her down among sacks of various items, weapons, and what looked to be clothing. Soon the other two returned.

“Reckon we’ll make it there in time if we ride fast,” said the small one. “Is she hurt? Bruises cost money.”

The stubble-faced man looked her over under a lantern, grabbing her face and checking every inch of exposed flesh. The large one moved to the front, driving the horse forward. “Bit starved, but not bad enough to cost us. Half-elf from the look of her. Good money for those fey-types. Better money since she’s got the ghost eyes.”

“Ghost-whats?” The small one hissed.

“They don’t match. Lore says that means her soul’s already been here once before. Load of crap, but some witches still believe those eyes have special healing properties. Good young ones start at three gold each.” The small one cackled; more of a wheeze than a laugh; and the stubbly one tied up her hands and ankles.

She figured it would be better to lay low for the time being. At least she’d die indoors.

\---

Cobalt could count the number of times she’d misread a situation on one hand. The first had been when she was five, and had misinterpreted her sister’s role in the family. She was convinced that Eleki was Boron’s girlfriend. The second was later on, perhaps around the age of eight or nine. This was when Eleki disappeared to go on an adventure with her new magic friends. Cobalt bitterly recalled that she thought it was a game, and that her sister would in fact be home for dinner. She’d been wrong. Next was more recently; perhaps twelve. This time she’d made the same mistake as she had when she was five, only it was, in fact, Boron’s girlfriend. She believed that this new girl was just a “very close friend,” and as such did not think to knock before entering Boron’s room. She would never forget that day. The most recent one was now. As she lay on the floor of the cart she felt as though she knew these men well: The big one was the muscle (Byron), the stubbly-faced one the brains (she learned his name was Jason), and the small one was the stubbly one’s younger brother. She felt absolutely sure they were going to have their way with her, then immediately sell her into prostitution or slaughter her. She didn't expect them to be reasonable, or to care about her health.

“How long’ll it take to get there?” Whined the small one.

“Hush up, Hobart, we’ll be there in an hour.” Ah, the small one was named Hobart.

“Looks thin. Gonna feed her,” grunted Byron.

“Good idea. Don’t want her fainting for inspection,” called Jason from the front.

“Um, Excuse me?” Cobalt’s voice was hoarse from dehydration. “I’d really prefer some water, if you’ve got any.”

“Little girl can speak,” Byron dug around in a pack, unearthing a water skin. He untied Cobalt’s hands, and she guzzled down the water without even smelling it to see if it was clean. Thankfully, it tasted okay. To her surprise, Byron didn’t retie her hands.

“What’s this inspection? Where are we going?” She asked.

“Well, Honey, congratulations. You’ve been rescued.” Jason handed the reins over to Hobart. “We just happen to be the legendary Widow’s Pier Trio, hailing from the beautiful city of Roatia. And you, my darling, are going to be sold-ethically-to the highest bidder in the refugee ring!” Jason gave her a mock round of applause.

“What now? Widow’s Pier?” Cobalt wondered if perhaps the water had been poisoned after all.

“Refugee ring. We bring refugees from outside. Sell them into work. Good for you; no more hunger pain.” Byron took her hands and began working a salve into her rope burns.

“What my brother is trying to say is that this is the best we can do to help you out. You’d be dead out there. This way you’ll at least go somewhere with shelter and food. At the very least you’ll be out of the war zone. No more tiefling scoundrels and filthy elflings to worry about.” Jason crouched next to Cobalt, gripping her face in a calloused hand. “Listen up. You and I both know that you’re just another half-bred human, but those eyes'll fetch you a price among a certain kind of buyer. I’ll give you a moment to argue your case as to why I shouldn’t sell you to the first brothel or witch that sees you. They pay good gold for superstition.”

“What? My case? I’m a kid. It’s not right to sell kids.” Cobalt's brow furrowed incredulously. 

“Nah, you see, it ain’t about right. We live on money. So do you. That’s what this is about," Jason shook his head. "Try again.”

“Well...I’m a very dangerous kid.” Cobalt looked directly into Jason’s eyes. “I’ve killed two tiefling soldiers, and I carry with me a weapon that can pierce any armor. Only I can use it though.” She paused for effect. “It rejects all else.”

Both Jason and Byron looked at her with varying levels of disbelief. Byron seemed to have taken the bait; Jason not as much. “Show me this weapon, girl.” Jason crossed his arms over his wide chest.

Cobalt drew her gun, holding it out to them. Both Byron and Jason’s eyes widened with blatant disbelief; they had never before seen anything like it in shape or function.

“How does it work? I don’t look like so much to me.” Jason scowled. Cobalt held up one of her bullets.

“You see this? This machine is so powerful that this little thing can kill a grown man from nearly two hundred feet away.”

“I want to try it.” Jason reached out and took it from her hands, nearly dropping it in surprise at its weight. “Heavy little bitch, ain’t it?” He toyed with it for a while, even pulling the trigger a few times, but since he had no idea how to turn off the safety he was at a loss.

The odds smiled in favor of Cobalt’s ruse.

“Jason?” Byron watched helplessly as his companion smacked the gun uselessly on the floor.

“Shut up, B!” Snapped Jason. “Listen, girl. Suppose we don’t sell you to the witches or the brothels. That I can insure. But how will you make it worth our whiles, since we ain’t getting nearly enough gold for our trouble?”

“Well, I have a good memory,” pondered Cobalt. “I’ll owe you a debt. And I’ll pay interest on it if you can find me someone who checks out. Someone who won’t expect me to sleep with them or anything crazy like that.”

“How do we know your word’s good?” Jason squinted at her. Cobalt held out her hand, turning it over to show a three hatch mark scars on her palm. She locked eyes with Jason.

“You see this? I never make a blood promise I can’t keep. First rule of living in a warzone: Be good to your word or be dead by it.”

“You kept them other three? Even though you run off?”

“Yes, sir. I promised the first one to myself. Second to my friend. Third to my brother.” She paused. “I’m in the middle of keeping my promise to him. More of a long term plan than a short gig.”

“Hm.” He pondered for a moment. “Ten. I’ll give you ten years to pay off your debt, only 'cause I don't fancy dealin' with them city dames over in Roatia.”

“Seems fair enough.” She reached for her pocket knife, but stopped as Jason gripped her hand.

“I don’t need none of that nonsense.” He let her go. “If you ain’t good for it I’ll use my connections to give you hell. Either way you're getting sold. I know every crooked piece of work in this country.”

\---

The ride to Roatia was long-much longer than what Cobalt would have expected. She assumed she must have been pretty far off in her distance calculations, or that she’d simply been hopelessly lost. When she went to bed that night they were driving, and when she awoke they were still on the road.

“How much farther?” She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“‘Bout another six hours. We picked you up way north of the main path. It’s longer driving on uneven ground,” replied Jason, who now held the reins of the wagon while Hobart slept.

“Will we be heading straight for Widow’s Peak today?” Asked Cobalt.

“Widow’s Pier, and yeah. Bidding opens up tonight though we’ll be dealing with you through the private requests. Speaking of which, got any special skills? You’ll need ‘em, since you won’t do sex or slavery.” Cobalt paused for a moment, building her nonexistent resumé in her head.

“I can pick most locks.” Cobalt toyed with a frayed lock of hair. “And I’m fast.”

“I can sell that,” Jason mused, “Lots of folk will pay a few gold for a competent thief.”

“I mean, I guess. I haven’t really done much other than nabbing food and the occasionally copper. I’m not from much.”

“Listen, you hush up and let me do the selling. You’re high-profile now. You stole coppers? It was a fucking gold. You picked a commoner’s lock? Make it the mayor’s house. You gotta sell yourself, kid. Honesty don’t mean shit.”

“I’m an accomplished burglar.” Cobalt tried not to giggle.

“Aye! That’s more like it.” Jason laughed.

\---

It was dusk when they made it to Widow’s Pier. It was in the outermost slum ring of the capital, located near an abandoned shipyard. It was an evening for firsts for Cobalt, starting with the city itself. The sixty-foot stone wall encircling the city made her feel minuscule and claustrophobic, and she was unsure whether she wished more to hide or to flee. In either case she felt far from welcome.

What surprised her most was the ocean. From within the cart she could see the glittering blue-grey of the sea, and the endless, unbroken curve of the horizon over it. It filled her with horror. She felt vertigo, as if she were at the top of a cliff, only instead of a plunging fall to the earth it would be a fall into oblivion. She shuddered at the thought.

“Oi, girl. Over here. It’s go time.” Jason hopped down from the wagon.

They’d cleaned Cobalt up as best they could. Her hair was brushed, face washed, wounds cleaned and sealed. She looked, at the very least, more alive than she had the previous few nights. She left the cart, and was immediately met with an unmatched scene of chaos. There were more people on the pier than she had seen her life. All sorts of people, too. She could see elves, tieflings, dwarves, perhaps even a goblin or two. All of them seemed to vary in wealth and dress, ranging from busty women in fur-lined coats to scruffy kids like Cobalt. All of them were headed into an old boathouse, and returning back with one of two stamps on their hands: One was a circle, the other a star of sorts (perhaps a sun, Cobalt thought).

“Over here. Come on, you need to get stamped.” Jason dragged her by her arm, Hobart and Byron close on their tail. “Promise it won’t hurt. Just a formality, is all.”

“O-okay. Yeah. Stamps.” Cobalt felt faint from the noise and bustle.

Before she knew it, she had her hand gripped tightly by a shrewish woman.

“Welcome back Jason. Opens, or classifieds tonight?” She didn’t even look at Cobalt.

“Classifieds tonight, Laney. This one’s a high roller.” Jason slipped her two silver.

With that, Cobalt’s hand was stamped with a red circle. Jason shoved her back out through the crowds, guiding her towards a more secluded area.

“Classifieds are in the Lady D’s brothel tonight. Location changes every few weeks, but you can usually bet on it being here.” Jason said.

He and Cobalt rounded a corner, coming up upon an nondescript brick building with a red light in the window. Cobalt in tow, he knocked a pattern against the door, and was met with a corresponding rhythm from the other side. The door opened to reveal a scantily clad woman with red lips and long black hair.

“Welcome to heaven,” she smiled at them both. “Bidding will take place in the second floor parlor.”

With that, Cobalt and Jason were both whisked upstairs by two girls, and led into a room filled with the heavy odors of smoke and perfume. Cobalt saw before her a singularly unique menagerie of people, all clad in various shades of black or grey. Each of them had a gleam to their eyes that came only with practiced deception. She became aware that each pair was focused on her.

“Ahem,” the lady with black hair tapped a silver spoon against a wine glass, standing behind a small podium. She was now wearing a heavy fur shawl over her porcelain shoulders. “We will now begin the classified auctions. Everyone in the bidding, please be seated. Those selling will kindly come up to the podium as called.”

“That’s Lady D. Ain’t she something?” Jason whispered to Cobalt.

“First for sale is…” Cobalt stopped listening to the calls of the woman.

She turned her attention towards the audience instead. One of these people would be taking her home today. She tried not to think of it as an adoption, but that is what it felt like. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She’d have someone she would belong to! Her!

“...Seller Damarang, young thief, starting at two hundred gold,” called the woman. Jason shoved Cobalt up to the front of the room. “Two-fifty. Do I see three?” The woman leisurely raised the price to quantities of money Cobalt could not fathom. “Ah, I see four. Four-fifty?”

A man in a long green cloak stood up in the back. A quiet fell over the room. He raised his hand quietly, obviously to the surprise of both the seller and the buyers. The woman, however, smiled discreetly.

“If I may, I’ll buy her for five hundred gold. I’ll add in fifty years of life to end the bidding,” the tension in the room mounted.

“Does the seller object?”

Jason gawked at the cloaked figure, muttering something about gold and life and how unbelievable the price had gotten. “Aye, of course. Five hundred gold, and fifty years of life it is.”

The woman brought down her small gavel, ending the bidding. The cloaked man approached the front of the room, pulling back the hood that was obscuring his face. Cobalt audibly gasped.

“Lord Blackwood!” She grinned at him, all anxiety leaving her at the sight of a familiar face. “I didn’t guess you’d be here. I didn’t guess you have five hundred gold!” She hopped down from the small stage, bouncing over to him gleefully. “Guess I shoulda robbed you after all, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Seilien smiled at her warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Jason approached the two of them, confusion painted clearly upon his face. He looked over Seilien, appraising the quality of his manner and apparel. He looked between the two, calculating how exactly they knew each other. Seilien offered his hand “What’s this about fifty years of life, elf?” He glowered at Seilien’s outstretched hand before taking it.

“And I’ll be needing the gold before you and the girl take off.”

“Of course,” Seilien spoke graciously. He handed Jason a heavy bag, presumably of gold. With that he added a very small vial of silvery fluid. “I’ll leave it to Lady Demetra to explain how this works, as well as the correct dosages.”

“Lady D knows this stuff?” Jason asked skeptically.

“Yes, she has commissioned me for it or its derivatives many times over the years,” He leant in closer to whisper “ask her about her age. I believe you will be most surprised.”

Seilien turned to leave, gesturing for Cobalt to follow him. As she did, Jason caught her wrist.

“Listen, girlie. You got lucky and found yourself a high-bidder, but you’d have sold for over a thousand to the brothel. I consider you in debt for three hundred, considering the years and such. Remember that.” Jason let her go, and she nodded firmly.

“Cobalt, it’s time to go,” Seilien called. She bounded after him.

\---

Cobalt sat in the tub, amazed by the size and splendor of the bathroom in the hotel. She’d never dreamed of being able to stay anywhere with private baths, let alone one with heated water. She almost jumped out of the bath when a young housemaid came in, bearing towels and a bowl of odds and ends.

“Hello, Miss Cobalt. Lord Blackwood asked me to bring you some towels, as well as a few different options for soap and shampoo,” said the girl.

“Ah. Yes. Of course he did,” Cobalt tried her best to seem authoritative. “Wonderful.”

“Your options for soap are lavender, chamomile, or honeysuckle. For shampoo we have either rose or orange blossom.” The maid placed the towels near the bath.

“Yes...Soap. The, er, purple one.” Cobalt squirmed slightly. “What is a ‘shampoo’?”

“For your hair, Miss.” The maid placed a pink bottle next to the edge of the tub.

“Mhm. Hair.” Cobalt held the bottle in her hands, eying the candy-colored liquid skeptically. “How do I use it?” She asked sheepishly.

The maid smiled sympathetically. “You get your hair wet, and then you rub the shampoo in. After that, you rinse it until all of the shampoo is gone. Then you use this,” she held out a smaller bottle of opaque gel “conditioner. It keeps your hair soft. Does that make sense?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Cobalt took the smaller bottle in her other hand. “Thanks.”

“Ring the bell if you need anything,” said the maid gently as she left Cobalt alone.

\---

Seilien, in the meantime, had much to do. He sat at the desk in the hotel room, pouring over a book and his own collection of notes. He had to be sure his calculations were correct. His sister’s words hung heavily in his mind, haunting him day and night: “My time is coming, Seilien. There’s not much left for me to do here, in this body.” He felt his heart lurch into a faster pace. But he was sure. They had a few years, and Cobalt checked out. She was the right age-would be the right age-and she matched up. All the family trees, all the elaborate networks came back with the same answer. She was the lost vessel.

“Seilien, darling, did you find her?” The small stone currently serving as a paperweight glowed softly, a woman’s voice now speaking through it. Seilien jumped slightly in surprise.

“Rhenia. Yes, I have the girl.” He looked at the stone with dread.

“Wonderful! Truly marvelous. Tell me, what is it like? Does she look like her?” Seilien sighed heavily. He did not wish to recall.

“Yes, I suppose a bit. Her hair is brown, though, and she has a smattering of freckles. Her eyes aren’t right either. Heterochromia has rendered one of them blue.”

“Oh, what a pity,” the voice paused “Is she well? I’d hate to lose her to disease or injury.”

“She’ll be healthy once she’s better fed. She’s getting a bath as we speak.” Seilien leaned back in his chair. “And you, Rhenia? How are you?”

The voice laughed. “I’ll be better soon, little one. Take good care of the girl.” The stone’s glow faded to nothing.

Seilien held its weight in his hand, toying with it as he read. He chewed at the inside of his cheek as he poured over his already re-copied notes, searching for errors he would not find.

\---

Seilien was roused by a soft knock at the door. He sat up abruptly, piling his paperwork under his book as best he could. What time was it? He hadn’t realized he’d been asleep.

“Lord Seilien?” The soft knocking resumed. “It’s me, Cobalt. Can you let me in?”

He leapt up from his chair, crossing the room nearly in one stride. He swung the door open to reveal Cobalt standing before him, shivering and damp. She wore only a towel and some slippers.

“I’m so sorry. I fell asleep whilst reading, do come in,” he hurried her inside, locking the door. “How long were you waiting? You’ll catch your death of cold.”

Cobalt stood near the doorway, awkward and uncertain of where she should be. Seilien handed her a plush robe, turning away while she put it on. Dried off and warmer, she sat on one of the two beds. Seilien took the other. Cobalt’s small body was completely lost in the robe, save for her head, but she looked warm and content. She glanced up at Seilien periodically, finding his eyes locked on hers. She fiddled with the ends of her hair.

“What were you reading?” She finally asked.

“Reading? Oh, of course. I was just touching up on some old volumes of Dracius’s Alchemical Guides. Extraordinary man, dreadful writer. Tell me, Cobalt, can you read?”

“Me? No. I never really went to school.” Cobalt tried to veil her embarrassment. She didn’t even know what the word ‘alchemical’ meant.

“Ah, that must be corrected immediately. It’s simply unsafe to go through life uneducated, and I can’t have you in danger, now can I?” Seilien offered her a smile.

She smiled weakly back. Her face grew solemn. “Danger is why you have me though, isn’t it?” She looked him in the eyes, finding in his gaze little comfort.

He too withdrew his smile, his gentle brow furrowing slightly. He smoothed back his long dark hair, drawing in a deep breath. He reached out, taking her hand in his. “Listen, my dear. I will never give you anything you aren’t ready for. You will be safe with me, understand?” he smiled, “You’re family now. Don’t ever forget it.”

Cobalt looked down at her hand in his, feeling the chill of his touch more acutely on her cleaner, healthier skin. “But there’s still the job. Why did you buy me? What do you need me to do?”

“Darling, what I need you to do right now is rest. Eat. Grow stronger. You will never know hunger again, nor will you know cold. Your job right now is to enjoy safety and to learn as much as you possibly can.”He stood up, crossing the room so that he could look out the window overlooking the river. “Before you do anything ‘roguish’ or dangerous I’m going to need you to have armor. The best armor I can give you is your mind. Tomorrow we buy you clothes and begin your education.”

\---

The river ran through the center of the city, from the small delta near Widow’s Pier all the way through to the southern border of Gorvena. Here, so close to the pier, the water was stale and brackish, granting to the poor circles of the city the unaffectionate nickname ‘Greywater.’ The name, as well as the water, managed to suck the light out of windows and the color out of cloth, leaving the slums a stark grey like a winter’s morning. The water was good for nothing, according to Jason and other residents of the slums, save for occasionally bringing up bodies that could be looted or sold to morally ambiguous alchemists or scientists.

When Cobalt awoke, warm and tightly cocooned in plush down blankets, she paid no mind to the pale light of the morning sun. It bothered her not that the sky wasn’t blue, or that there was a constant nervous energy about the streets. She simply nuzzled her face into her pillow, pulling the sanctuary of her quilt over her face. It smelled faintly of woodsmoke. Seilien, however, paid heed to the morning’s call. He found himself troubled in sleep; his dreams were of hazy dread and old friends, long lost. He left the room at the first light of dawn, leaving a note he knew Cobalt couldn’t read as well as an enchantment on the room that would alert him if she were to stir. He’d have at least a few hours to wander as he pleased.

He headed to the docks. Not the ramshackle mess of buildings that made up Widow’s Pier, but rather the active docks of West Helm, the worker’s dock that brought in the day’s catch of fish and imported goods. The ships there were always things of majesty and power, huge vessels war-torn or storm-battered that managed to make him feel small and inconsequential for his lack of weathering. Perhaps there amongst the sailors and stowaways he’d be able to find a treat for Cobalt; something small and sparkly to earn her trust and favor. His cloak of green velvet and black silk was bright enough to catch the eye of every ship hand and exhausted scarlet on the docks, enough such that he drew his hood closer around his face. It would be best not to be seen, though he doubted that anyone would know him. The wind billowed the fabric out behind him, exposing the expensive polish of his boots and the rich wool of his pants. On his right hand he turned an obsidian ring around his index finger. His eyes monitored the quiet bewilderment of the people around him for any indication of danger.

At long last he found his quarry: A ship come in from the west, bearing with it imported luxury goods as well as the usual foodstuffs and other benign commodities. He saw men unloading what he knew to be boxes of jewelry and glassware. Pulling down his hood, he eased his pace and waved them down.

“Morning, sirs. I am a traveller from the east, looking for a gift for my daughter. My ship leaves in the next hour, and I was wondering if you had any trinkets that may please a girl.”

One of men, tall and of rugged build, eyed his robes suspiciously. “Aye, we may, though not for an easy price,” his look eased as he perceived the cost of Seilien’s coat. “Allow me to open up this box so’s you can take a look.” Seilien smiled kindly, and allowed himself to be guided over to a bend by the loading dock.

“Thank you, good fellow. I would have been ashamed to return empty handed from my travels.” The seaman opened up the small box, revealing in it a collection of baubles and delicate works of glass. Seilien’s eye was caught at once by the glimmer of a sapphire necklace. Seeing his interest, the man held it before him.

“This necklace is of elvish fashion. A man sold it to us for less than it was worth, due to hard times from the war an’ all,” said the sailor smoothly, “I ain’t seen a work as neat as that in some time. Cert’ not in these parts, so far from the Fey’s forges. How old is your daughter?”

Seilien’s bright eyes watched each glitter of the stone, gauging its true worth before he hastened the sale. “She’s about fifteen. She’s always pined after glittering jewels like the sort her mother wears. I promised her for her fifteenth birthday I’d get her something of her own, but I happened to be traveling for it. If I come home empty handed I’m afraid there will be a coup d’etats.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” said the sailor sympathetically. “I’ll sell this to you for thirty platinum, since there’s such a hurry.”

Seilien feigned a forethought, hesitating enough to to cause the sailor some anxiety about the price. “I can offer you twenty-five platinum. The five I need for traveling fees and food. Tough times, you know?” Seilien sized the man up, daring him to refuse the lowered price.

The sailor paused in his speech for a moment. “Twenty-six is as low as I’ll go,” he said finally.

Seilien knew twenty-five was below the jewel’s value, and it would be unwise to refuse the new price. “Twenty-six it is,” with a shake of the sailor’s hand and an exchange of money, Selien was off. He was pleased with his work. A gift like this could go a long way in earning the trust of a girl, after all. He would save it, perhaps, for a rainy day.


	2. Year 1, Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after being sold to Lord Blackwood, Cobalt finds herself adjusting to a life of comfort and learning, until one evening she falls ill with a splitting headache. Several strange dreams later, she feels more or less herself, but finds that a new person has joined her in Seilien's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first year will probably take two chapters or so. We'll see.

Cobalt wanted to cry. She would have sworn she’d looked at the same sentence for the past hour, trying with all her might to decode its hidden meaning. She sat at the small wooden table by the bay window overlooking the yard, now opulent with June’s sun. She forbade herself from looking at it. The greenery would simply taunt her and make her hate the book all the more.

            “How is the reading coming along?” Called Seilien from somewhere down the hall, most likely his study. “Once you’ve finished you can go out and practice your jumps and shots.”

            Cobalt groaned, slamming the book closed and dropping her face into her hands. “Seilien there’s no use to it. I won’t ever learn Celestial. I’m not even a chapter in and I’m already lost. It’s impossible and ugly and I hate it.”

            Her guardian appeared in the open doorway, an eyebrow raised over his intelligent eyes. Seeing Cobalt’s plight he smiled sympathetically. “I believe you’ll find that Celestial is one of the most beautiful languages we have access to, though it is ruefully under used.” he closed the distance between them, taking up a chair at the table. “Which phrase is troubling you?”

            “All of it.” Cobalt reopened her book, searching for her page. “Why are you making me learn this? I thought you needed me for work, not as an experiment in torture.” It was true. It had been nearly a month since Seilien had bought her and brought her to his home outside of Roatia, and she’d done nothing but language drills and reading, save for her daily exercises in acrobatics and marksmanship.

            “It is always good to know more languages than your target. Imagine if someone were to be using Celestial as a code language, and I needed you to tell me a location. What would be do then?” Seilien’s eyes skimmed the page Cobalt held out to him. “Darling, you’ve seen all these words before. See there? That’s the verb ‘to be,’ so the phrase is saying ‘-to be sure of-’. It truly is simple once you see the pattern.”

            “I’d rather die than learn all this. Can’t I just be your mercenary? I’ll just shoot whoever speaks in a language I don’t know.” Cobalt leaned back in her chair, puffing her lips out in a pout.

            “Now, now. We’ve been over this: you aren’t to kill anyone unless one of us is in grave danger. I deal in information, and you can’t learn much from a dead man.” This, Seilien knew, wasn’t precisely true. There was a great deal to be learnt from the dead. “Now, try again.”

            At that moment, as Cobalt was about to restart her paragraph, she was hit with a sudden headache. “Ah, I don’t think I can. I don’t feel well all of a sudden,” Her head was splitting. She hissed in pain.

            “Cobalt? Are you quite alright?” Suddenly Seilien felt pain too, though his was dulled by comparison. Something urged him to return to his study. “Cobalt, darling, let’s take you to lie down.”

            “Oh! Seilien, what’s going on?” She tried to stand, but toppled over. Luckily Seilien was alright enough to catch her.

            “I have an idea. But for now it’s best that you try to sleep.” He whispered arcane words under his breath, summoning a green light to his hand and touching his index finger against her forehead. “Sleep now, love. It will be better when you wake.”

            He heaved her up into his arms; his untrained body struggled a bit with her weight even though she was small. Once she was tucked away safely in bed he hurried to his study. His own headache made his vision blur, but he hastened all the same. He shoved a pile of documents and books onto the floor, gripping a small paperweight tightly in his hands.

            “Rhenia! Rhenia, what's going on?” He shouted at the stone. It glowed faintly. “Rhenia!”

            “Seilien, my love, hush down a bit.” He gasped in relief at the sound of his sister’s voice.

            “Oh, thank the gods you’re alright. Darling, what's going on?” Seilien paced the small room, pausing occasionally to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Cobalt fell ill all of a sudden, and I too seem to have a bad headache. Do you know what’s going on?”

            “Oh, nothing wrong, brother dearest. Simply a slight- alteration- of plans. I’m afraid I must ask something of you a bit sooner than we had planned.” Her voice, he realized, was forced and weakened.

            “Anything. Anything at all. Say the word and I’ll be with you within an hour.” Seilien stared at the stone earnestly, rubbing his hair anxiously with his free hand.

            “I’m afraid I’ll need a place to lay low. Things are about to go quite sideways here, what with those travelers I told you about appearing at the palace. I’m afraid they’ve broken into my chambers, and are threatening to take action.”  Rhenia’s voice dropped a bit. “I’m afraid I’m about to be made very weak, and if they find me it is quite possible that I shall die.”

            Seilien exhaled heavily, panic mounting in his chest. He dug through an old book for remedies for unlikely ailments, looking for a cure for the unusually strong headache he and Cobalt came down with.

            “I would send Cobalt, but she’s incapacitated by the headache. Is it best for me you come to you via a portal? Are you strong enough still to make it here?” He placed the stone on the desk, next to the book.

            “I cannot travel by magic as I am now,” Rhenia admitted “so I think it’s best if you’d come for me.”

            “I’ll be there in a moment. Please set up the marker.” Seilien tore open drawers and cabinets, grabbing the miscellania required to perform such a strong spell. “Do not move. Barricade the door if you must.”

“I will. Thank you.” The stone faded, and there was no sound save for the tinkering of Seilien’s components and the soft scratch of chalk against the floor.

\---

            Cobalt’s dreams were of pain. Even in Seilien’s artificial sleep her head hurt, and she had trouble making sense of the visions in her mind. She felt the world fall away fast; she shot up into the sky until she could see the country of Roane from the shining Eastern coast all the way to the Western mountains. A shimmering blue veil surrounded the outline of the country, cutting up into the sky and presumably deep down into the earth. Behind it were vague outlines; of what, Cobalt couldn’t be sure.

            “There’s more to the world than this,” said a voice softly. Cobalt looked around, but found no one. “You’ve been cut off.”

            The veil quivered once, then cracked like glass. Then, to her horror and disbelief new land sprawled out from beyond the western peaks; new plains to the north; valleys to the south. She became aware that it was odd to never have questioned what lay beyond the Grey Tree to the west. How bizarre that she never asked what lurked beyond the mountains to the north. She knew that this was her first time seeing the broader world, but she felt as though it had been there the whole time. She just hadn’t bothered to look.

            Her stomach dropped as she was hurled back towards the earth, shooting like a star down into what she slowly recognized to be the royal palace of Roatia. Her descent stopped in a room, dark save for the light of a fireplace and a few spluttering candles. A woman in green lay elegantly on a sofa, reclined as she read a large novel. Her hair was silky, and her eyes a deep viridian that could only be the result of elvish ancestry. With a fluid movement, she pushed back a stray lock of hair as she lifted her gaze as if to look through Cobalt. No words were spoken, but a smile crept over her pale lips. Cobalt’s vision blackened as her head was wracked with an incessant, agonizing pounding.

\---

            Cobalt awoke to her own screaming. She thought she saw her door open, and she tried to get up, reaching out at the promising light of safety. She fell from her bed, finding her legs unable to support her and her head spinning from the sudden change of positions. She called out for Seilien, though her voice felt so loud that it hurt her even at a whisper. From where she lay on the ground she saw the crack in the door widen as it was pushed open.

            “Cobalt? What’s going on?” Seilien hurried over to her, gently helping her into a sitting position.

            “Please, not so loud,” Cobalt covered her ears and closed her eyes, trying to minimize the sudden excess of noise and light. She leaned her head heavily against Seilien’s chest.

            “Is it your head still?” He whispered, moving her head so that he could place a hand over her soaking forehead. “Dear gods, you’re burning up.” With considerable difficulty he lifted her back into bed, tucking her in awkwardly. “I’ll be back in a moment, dear. I’m going to fetch you some ice.”

            Cobalt couldn’t be sure, but she thought for a moment that there was a figure in her doorway. She thought she could hear soft conversation as Seilien left as well, yet it was difficult to hear much of anything over the ringing in her ears. She slipped back into uneasy sleep.

\---

            “Are you quite sure that it is best for you to keep me here?” Rhenia asked as Seilien guided her into his bedroom. “It may be unwise for the girl to see me at this delicate stage.”

            “She has no reason for any concern. It is not unheard of for siblings to visit one another. I’ll simply say that you happened to be in the area.” Seilien pulled back the blankets of his bed, and gestured for Rhenia to lie down. “Please, take my bed. I have little need for sleep, especially with Cobalt being unwell.”

            “Ah yes, that's her name, correct? Cobalt. Unusual. Unbecoming of a lady of such pristine lineage, yet fitting for one from such a poor background.” She removed her shoes and got under the covers, allowing Seilien to tuck her in. He sat on the side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest.

            “Is she truly in there, do you think?”

            “Seilien, love, we have checked the family tree so thoroughly. True, she has inherited…unfavorable traits from the occasional surrogate parent, but she is of our line.”

            “She had a brother. How do we know it was her and not him? If we miscalculated, he could be lost in the war. He was a soldier when last I checked on them.”

            “It would not be him. The magic is preserved only in the female lines.” Rhenia took Seilien’s hand in hers. To her, it was warm. “Do not doubt yourself, little brother. I too have carried out the studies. When have I ever failed you?” She smiled at him, her emerald eyes gleaming. Seilien met her gaze with anxiety, but gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

            “What do you make of her illness?” He asked. “I haven't known her to be of weak health, even as a starving child. This is most out of character.”

            Rhenia chuckled softly. “Oh, I believe there is little to worry about. If it will assuage your anxiety I can look at her in the morning.”

            “I would appreciate that,” he was silent for a moment. “I ought to let you rest. You’ve had a rather taxing day.”

            Rhenia looked at him with a soft expression, rubbing his hand gently as she held it. “You're still as sweet as you were so many years ago.”

            “Anything for you,” said Seilien as he leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. “Rest well. I’ll be either in the parlor or with Cobalt should you require anything.”

            With that he extinguished the oil lamp and left her to sleep.

\---

            Cobalt had uneasy dreams. Although she was no longer troubled by the dream of the world and the cracked veil, she was visited by her old nightmares. Namely the one about that night a few years back when Boron came home screaming, with his eyes gored out. She had the misfortune of seeing his face before his comrades had a chance to clean him up. That image would likely never leave her be.

            In the dream she was young, perhaps eight or nine. She was holding Boron’s hand as they walked door to door, asking for handouts of food. This was back in the early years of the war, before Boron had enlisted. They were together then, but starving. After being rejected by each door they went to, they came to one that was answered by an elderly blind woman. When Boron asked if she would be so generous as to spare some scraps, she smiled a gap-toothed grin and replied that she would, if he would pay for it by helping her with a task. He complied. Cobalt was told to wait outside.

            After several long minutes, the door opened, and the smell of fresh bread wafted out magnificently. Cobalt grinned when she saw the fresh loaf that Boron held in his hands, yet when she looked up at him she shrieked with horror. His eyes were missing. Blood-filled holes remained where his eyes had one been, and the woman emerged behind him, laughing and staring at Cobalt through her brother’s brown eyes.

            Cobalt awoke with a start. Her head felt clearer. She saw suddenly that Seilien was looking at her with a startled expression from a chair by her bed. He closed the book he had been reading (written in Celestial-“ _On Walking Between Planes_ ”), placing it on the small bedside table where he had lit an oil lantern.

            “Are you quite alright?” He asked, noticing the sweat on her brow. “Do you have an fever again?”

            “No. Sorry. Bad dream,” Cobalt tried to slow her breathing, laying back down on her soft pillows. “The one about the old lady and the bread again.”

            “Ah, a familiar plight. What do you think it meant?”

            “That I’m afraid of old ladies that take people’s eyes.” Cobalt stared at the ceiling.

            “I believe we all are. Perhaps there is a deeper meaning, beyond the act of eye-taking?”

            Cobalt rolled over on her side such that her back was to him. “I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. It meant nothing. Just that it’s fucked up to take people’s eyes.”

            “Very well then.”

            Cobalt stared at her wall as her eyes welled with tears. She thought of her brother. What was Boron doing now? Was he even still alive? She felt a wave of guilt roll over her chest. How foolish of her to just leave, without so much as a goodbye! Who would take care of him? Were any of those other soldiers still around? She hadn’t bothered to check, or to let anyone in town know that she was leaving. She supposed it wouldn’t be too unlikely that Eleki might reappear at some point. She’d never hear the end of it. She could already feel her sister’s hatred for her for having left her brother. It was always about family with her, even though she wasn’t even related to them, Cobalt thought bitterly. Well, maybe if it really had been about family she’d have been back to help over the years instead of being off having adventures while Boron enlisted in the war. Cobalt was amazed she hadn’t sold herself off to any of the local brothels out of desperation or loneliness. The hunger was one thing when Boron was with her, but there really was no pain that could compare to starving alone.

            At some point in her thoughts she fell into sleep again, though this time is was comfortable and dreamless. When she awoke in the morning, Seilien was no longer seated in her room, and she was certain that she heard voices in the next room.

\---

            “Who…is this?” Cobalt stared dumbly at the woman seated at the small kitchen table. She was clad in a silk gown, and appeared to be better fit for a palace than a simple cottage parlor.

            “My name is Rhenia Alumina Blackwood. It is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She stood as she introduced herself, complete with a small curtsey.

            “Uh, I’m Cobalt. Cobalt Fairfire. Blackwood, eh? Are you and Lord Seilien related?”

            “Yes, we are siblings. I am his eldest sister.” Said Rhenia with a smile. Cobalt looked between the two. Seilien had dark hair like hers, but it was turned a stark white in places, and his eyes were an icy blue rather than her vibrant green. If Cobalt tried hard enough she could see the resemblance. Barely.

            “I take after our mother,” interjected Seilien, as if he felt Cobalt’s doubt. “And unfortunately I lost some of my hair color to time.”

            “You still look marvelous, love,” reassured Rhenia.

“Where’d you come from, Lady Rhenia? Do you live around here too?” Asked Cobalt.

Rhenia laughed an elegant little laugh. “No, dear, I’m not. I’m visiting here for a bit from Roatia. Seilien was kind enough to invite me over for a bit, since we haven’t had much time together since he moved way out here.”

“Funny, we were just in the city not too long ago. That’s where I met him.”

“I know, he told me all about it. I’m glad he’s finally found someone to help him out with his research. I’m sure it gets quite troublesome to have to gather all your own reagents, does it not?” She asked Seilien.

“It certainly is not conducive to timely work, that much is certain.” Seilien admitted. “Our primary work has been done in getting Cobalt up to speed on some of the languages she may run into while she travels. She’s been making good progress.”

“I still can’t fucking get Celestial to stick though.” Added Cobalt.

“Language, dear,” interjected Seilien. “How are you feeling? You had a rather difficult few days.”

“I’m good now. All’s well that ends well, I guess. My head still hurts a bit, though.”

“Perhaps you could talk to me a bit about what happened? I’m rather an expert when it comes to the happenings of the mind. I’ve long made the study of mental ailments a hobby,” Rhenia offered.

“Sure. Not much to say though-it was just a bad headache and a weird dream.” Something about the constant gleam in Rhenia’s eyes made Cobalt squirmy. She could swear she recognized something about her. “We haven’t met before, have we?”

“No, I do believe I would remember if we had. I don’t think I would forget eyes like yours,” Rhenia smiled sweetly, though there was still a slight edge in her voice.

“Are you going to be staying with us long? I hope you don’t get bored. Not a whole lot happens out here, since it’s just me and Lord Seilien.”

“I won’t burden you both for too long. I just needed to get a break from life for a bit, and I missed seeing my brother,” Rhenia smiled at Seilien. “How could I get bored when I’m surrounded by such lovely country, anyways? Look at all that green! How truly marvelous.” She gestured out the window.

“Cobalt, my dear, if you’re feeling better why don’t you take the day for some physical practice? I know you’ve been rather focused on books for some time, so a break might be a welcome change.” Said Seilien.

Cobalt stretched out, causing several joints to make popping noises in her back and shoulders. “I could probably use the exercise. Haven’t moved in a few days.”

“Is it wise for her to exert herself so soon after an illness?” Rhenia turned to Seilien. “I would hate for her to fall ill again. One cannot be too careful following a headache.”

“I’ll be fine, Lady Rhenia. Anyway, it’s good for me to push myself a bit. Never know what’s coming, after all.” Cobalt got up from where she was seated, grabbing her pistol and heading for the door. “I’ll swing back in the afternoon,” she said with a wave.

Alone, the siblings sat in silence for several moments. Rhenia watched Cobalt head down the wooded path, her gait relaxed and balanced like a cat’s. She hummed softly in approval, her expression clouded by thought.

“What do you think of her?” Seilien broke the silence.

“She certainly isn’t quite what I had in mind,” said Rhenia after a moment’s hesitation. “She’s not quite as refined as I would have liked. We ought to have acquired her earlier.”

“I know, it wasn’t an ideal timing. Unfortunately her brother survived the accident. It would have been quite different had he perished as was planned.”

“It was unfortunate,” Rhenia pondered “but it was also inevitable. I really should have known that specific plan wouldn’t have worked. The father knew a bit too much, so he was able to make a pact in time, poor fool.”

“I’m sorry,” said Seilien morosely. “It was my fault.”

Rhenia looked away from the window, meeting her brothers eyes. She took his hand, and held it tightly. “You know I don’t blame you, right? For any of it?”

Seilien met her gaze and lifted her hand to his lips. He toyed with the many rings on her delicate fingers, taking particular interest in a signet ring. He kissed it gently before releasing her hand. “I spend all my time worrying for you,” he said finally. “You never tell me the truth.”

“Darling, I do. I would never lie to you,” Rhenia leaned forward across the table, pressing her hand against his cheek. “The years have made you fearful. I understand. But you must trust me, even now. You are my brother; my only kin. We need each other.”

Seilien allowed his eyes to close, basking in the comfort of Rhenia’s familiar touch. He placed his hand over hers as she tried to take it back, keeping it against his face for a moment longer. “How long has it been since we saw each other? It feels as though it’s been ages, though perhaps it truly has considering how time moves for me…”

“Love, it’s been generations. I last saw you when Ellory Blackwood was a child, and he was the great grandfather of the current King Darius…” Her eyes grew wistful. “It hurts me to see you age, as I stay the same. Your beautiful black hair is going to ash, and your eyes have greyed so from the Ether.”

Seilien shook his head once, and kissed her palm quickly before releasing her hand. “I don’t mind the grey, and my hair color bothers me not. As long as I have the hospital I’ll have a way of evading the years. I have enough blood to keep me alive for the next thousand years or so, even if I were to sell some of it,” he smiled at Rhenia. “It will be worth it when we have Dahlia back. After all our research, we’re sure to get it right this time.”

“Absolutely. We’ve spent so many hours in study, so many years. This body can afford to wait a few more.” Reassured Rhenia.

“Even if those fools break the veil around this place?”

Rhenia shifted, the mood chilled. She uncrossed then re-crossed her legs, pushing her lustrous hair back over her shoulders in the way a bird ruffles its feathers, then cracked a small smile. “Love, where did you learn about the veil?”

“I’ve been conducting some research into the Ether. It seemed odd to me that no records of it existed, prior to perhaps a thousand years ago. For instance, why is it that I don’t recall ever hearing about the Celestials during our childhood? I recall only glimpses as it is, but it seems odd that something so pertinent to my survival should have been kept from my education…” Seilien rambled

Rhenia saw the gears moving in her brothers head. Were she stronger, she may have tried to slow them, but as it was she could barely control her own thoughts. Her gaze returned to the window. What was that child up to? Was it truly safe to allow such a valuable creature to roam the woods unhindered when war was on the city’s doorstep? She thought of Dahlia. She remembered the gleam of her smile, unscathed by the malice that ate at Rhenia’s heart. She recalled the way she used to say their brother’s name, or their parents’.

“-nia? Rhenia?” Seilien’s concerned voice brought her back. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing, Love. Just a thought.”

\---

“One hundred…hundred one…two…” Cobalt panted as she did her sit ups. She hung by her knees from a tall tree branch, and forced herself to bring her chest all the way up to meet her kneecaps for as many times as she could bear it. Nowadays, after nearly a year of good food and sleep, she could often make it to two hundred.

“Are you stuck up there, eh?” A voice called from below. “What’re you doing?”

“four…five…six…” Cobalt ignored the stranger.

“Ain’t you worried about falling? You must be, oh, twenty feet up? Wouldn’t fancy a fall from way up there.”

            “Eleven…twelve…thirteen…”

            “My name is Robin. I live a mile or so up the road, you know? I came down here to look for some apples. What’s your name?”

            “two hundred twenty…twenty-one…twenty-two…”

            “Mind if I sit for a bit? It’s awfully lonely, wandering around by myself. Maybe once you’re done swinging you’d like an apple? I’ve found nearly two dozen.” Robin sat cross-legged at the base of the tree.

            It took Cobalt another several minutes before she was finished with her sit-ups. She sat atop her branch, catching her breath and feeling the satisfied heat in her muscles, for several moments before she swung herself down from her perch. “Who’re you?” She asked the boy seated at the bottom of her tree.

            “Robin. I already told you.”

            “Ah, right. Sorry.” Cobalt rubbed the back of her head awkwardly.

            “Apple?” Robin offered up his basket, straining a bit under its weight.

            “Thank you,” Cobalt grabbed a big, shiny one. “I didn’t know there were apple trees around here.” She took a bite. It was a damn good apple.

            “There aren’t, really. I had to wander around quite a bit to find them,” Robin himself took one and started eating it. “What’s your name?” He mumbled through a full mouth.

            “Cobalt. Pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand, which he shook rather weakly.

            “Do you live near here? I didn’t know that there were any other kids nearby.”

            “Who’re you calling a kid?” Cobalt furrowed her brow slightly. “And yeah, I live nearby. I’m not here much, though. I’ll be headed back to the city in not too long.”

            “The city? Aren’t you afraid of it?”

            “No? Ought I be?” Cobalt sat down on the grass near Robin.

            “My Ma is always telling me ‘Robin, you stay away from those royal roads, y’hear? You’ll get yourself slaughtered or sold if them armies getcha!’” He raised his voice into a mock woman’s voice. “I don’t believe her, though.”

            “The roads can be a bit challenging, though I doubt the soldiers would pay much attention to you without those apples. They’re hungry mostly, not bloodthirsty.”

            “I could take ‘em. At least one. Maybe two, if the first one isn’t too tough.” Robin clenched one hand into a fist.

            “Best not to test it. How old are you anyway?”

            “I’m nine and a half. My birthday’s in the spring.” Robin gave her a smile, and he looked rather goofy with his unkempt hair and dirty face.

            “I see. You’re basically a grown-up.”

            “Are you joking with me?” His brown eyes narrowed.

            “No, I’m completely serious.” Cobalt choked down a laugh. He looked so serious.

            “Good. I hate it when people call me a kid, cause I’m not, you know? My sister’s a kid. She’s six. But I’m old enough to know how the world works."

            “And how does it work?”

            Robin paused for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. When he opened his eyes, he looked at Cobalt with the look of earnest belief that only children are capable of. Somehow, she felt herself have full faith in the breadth of his knowledge.

            “At the end of the day, whoever has the most apples wins.” He said finally.

Cobalt was quiet. Then she broke into laughter, despite the protest of Robin. She stood up, and offered him her hand, which he took begrudgingly. “C’mon. Let’s get you back home. You said it was a mile up the road?”

“Maybe. It might be more though, depending on where the road is.” He still pouted a bit.

The two of them walked together in relative quiet, as Robin’s pride still hurt a bit. Cobalt let her mind wander a bit as she watched the sun move ever lower on the horizon. It would be fall soon, rather than late summer, and the days were shortening. At times you could feel the nipping threat of cold on the breeze, though it wasn’t yet bad enough to warrant a coat. Cobalt enjoyed the walk. Seilien hadn’t ever mentioned that there would be other people living in the woods surrounding the city, though she wasn’t surprised. Perhaps he hadn’t thought she’d ever run into them. It was refreshing to talk with someone other than him, even if it was a child. Robin was pleasant company, and he didn’t expect her to speak well or to understand Elvish.

Eventually they reached the road, which turned out to be nearly two miles from the tree. By the time they reached it the sun had already started to set, and Robin tentatively touched the side of Cobalt’s arm as his vision grew weaker. For whatever reason, the dark never bothered Cobalt. She found that she could see in it nearly as well as in the light, though things lacked color and depth was occasionally challenging. She let him hold onto her. She knew that the dark could be scary, even if you could see in it. By the time they reached his house, night had more or less fallen.

\---

            “Is she normally out this late?” Rhenia paced slightly in the small kitchen, occasionally pausing to wring her hands or glance at her brother scornfully.

            “Well, no, but-

            “Seilien! What if soldiers found her? It will all be for naught if she gets killed, or impregnated…”

            “Rhenia, I really don’t-

            “How long have we waited? How long have _I_ waited? I haven’t been allowed to-to disappear into the beyond; to skip decades by turning them into days!” She slipped into a chair, her chest heaving slightly. Her eyes burned with angry tears, and her voice threatened to break. Seilien couldn’t recall when he’d last seen her in such a state, or even if he ever had.  
            “Rhenia, please…” He knelt beside her chair. “I truly believe she’s fine. She had a weapon; she’s quick. Smart too, though she doesn’t always present herself as such.”

            She waved him away as she began to shed tears. It was unlike her to come undone. Her hands shook violently, though when Seilien tried to still them she refused his touch.

            “Why are you so afraid? I’ve never known you to be so anxious over something so…trivial, as a child staying out late. She’s sixteen, and that’s old enough for her to have some free rein. Do you remember being sixteen?”

            “It was so long ago…” Rhenia allowed him to take her hand.

            “I would have been perhaps ten. Maybe less.” He spoke in hushed tones, trying to calm her.

            “You were so frail as a child. Mother always worried you’d die if ever you caught a cold.” Rhenia smiled weakly. “Do you remember how you used to come to my room when you had bad dreams? Because you were afraid of going upstairs to mother and father’s room? The long hallway frightened you.”

            “I don’t recall being afraid of the hallway…”

            “You were! Once I was late letting you in, and you started to cry because you were convinced there were ghosts in the house, and that they wanted to get you. You must have been, what, six? You wouldn’t stop crying until I let you into bed with me.” Rhenia ran her fingers through Seilien’s hair absentmindedly.

            “I suppose I remember that.” Seilien rested his head in her lap.

            “You would sneak to my room even after mother and father told you that you were too old to have nightmares. I truly believe that you would have kept it up had I not been sent away.”

            A stillness fell between them as they both felt a breach in the wall between the two of them open up. She had left when Seilien was fourteen, and it was true that he’d come to her with nightmares up till then. They spoke rarely of those years, partially out of pain and partially because Seilien simply couldn’t remember them.

            “Whatever became of Dahlia?”

            “Darling, you know what became of her. We simply lost her.”

            “No, Rhenia, I don’t mean where she went. I-I can recall you so clearly. I can see memories of us together as far back as I possibly could, but I feel as though I can’t come up with even one real moment with Dahlia. Not before she got sick.”

            “What about that holiday with the Heliverdt’s? Don’t you remember how that boy-Delcho, I believe he was-flirted with her so badly? You’d have been around twelve or thirteen.” Rhenia’s fingers caught slightly on a tangle in her brother’s hair.

            “I remember the holiday, but I only faintly remember Dahlia being there. As if she had been a dream.” Seilien was quiet for a moment. “I think I may remember father getting cross with us, though I don’t recall why.”

            “He was always cross at us, darling.” She spoke bitterly.

            The two of them were quiet for a time, save for the occasional tapping of Rhenia’s nails on the tabletop. She kept running her other hand through her brother’s hair, staring out with window for any sign of Cobalt. Seilien, feeling his own exhaustion now that he knew his sister was safe for the time being, felt himself begin to drift off.

            “What are your plans for the girl?” Seilien almost jumped as Rhenia broke the silence.

            “How do you mean?”

            “Well, she isn’t-oh, you know-she’s _herself_. It won’t work; not unless we can drag Dahlia back up, and the Gods know how far deep she’s hidden herself.”

            “I suppose I don’t quite have a plan yet, save for giving her the same education we all received as children.” Seilien’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t know Dahlia as well as you did. What would you have me do?”

            “I’m not sure yet,” Rhenia paused. “I suppose giving her an education and a job would be good. If I’m right, and I’m nearly sure I am, we’ll want to keep her on the move.”

            “I was planning on having her run favors for me. Collecting artifacts and books, that sort of thing. Rather a bother for me, but it should be engaging enough for her.” He hesitated. “She thinks I bought her for work as a thief.”

            “Thief?” Rhenia laughed. “Our Dahlia! A common robber! How abhorrent; I love it.”

\---

            Cobalt successfully brought Robin back to his house, and was invited in for dinner as her reward. Hungry as she was, she knew that she had to make it back to Seilien before midnight. That was the curfew. He’d made it clear that, should it be broken, the consequences would be dire. So, without much else to offer, Robin gave her a small satchel of apples to bring home for “her father.”

            The way home was dark. It was a new moon, and the stars provided very little light on their own. She could see better than most people in the low light, but her feet still snagged on the occasional root. Her fingers lay against her pistol. There shouldn’t be dangerous people or creatures in this area, she reminded herself. She felt an old memory flash before her eyes. It was the tiefling; how he’d said the elves came upon him by surprise. She felt the ghost of her gun’s recoil in her fingertips. She thought for a moment she could even smell the putrid mix of sulfur and blood. She shook her head, willing the thought away. Why should it bother her? It was a mercy. He’d asked her to do it.

            She thought of her brother. What would he have done? When she was younger, she understood war to be a simple thing: You kill the enemy, or they kill you. The concept of mercy, or of different kinds of death, never occurred to her. Would Boron give the tiefling a quick death? Do you wish pain on the enemy? She understood the desire to win. She knew what survival meant. Still, she wondered where pain fit into it; you could survive with pain, or die without it. You could win wars without ever causing pain, then. What happened to Boron wouldn’t necessarily have had to happen for the tiefling armies to win, and that somehow made her angrier than she already was. Why cause pain if you didn’t have to? She’d ask Seilien.

 He never mentioned the war unless she brought it up. It was as if it didn’t exist unless she willed it to. It _was_ easy to forget, so far from the city and the battles. Even if the war ended she might not know. She shivered. There was so much that could happen to the world that she could miss, simply because of how isolated she and Seilien were. At first the house was a blessing; she was so exhausted and starved that the prospect of constant rest and reading appealed. But she was strong now. There were things out there that pleaded, needed to be seen and experienced. She ached to leave the silence of the woods for the city. She even wanted to go find out what Jason was up to, though she doubted that he’d want to see her unless she had money.

The route back to the house was longer than she’d expected. She knew that Robin dragged her out farther than he ought to, but she couldn’t have just left him on his own. Seilien would be mad. Well, he might be. He also might be preoccupied with his sister and forgotten Cobalt altogether. Considering how late it was, there was a chance he may have retired to bed, though that would be too convenient. Cobalt remembered once when she was younger. She’d snuck out after dinner, gotten lost, and come back near midnight. Boron went ballistic. No, adults never go to sleep when it’s convenient. Seilien was probably awake, reading, waiting for her to slink through the door so that he could tear into her. Maybe he’d hold back, considering they weren’t alone. Maybe.

At long last she saw the faint golden light of the cabin. The front lantern was lit, but to Cobalt’s glee she saw that there weren’t any lights on inside; not even in Seilien’s room. All she’d have to do was slip in the door and go to bed! She chuckled to herself smugly as she balanced her weight on her toes, reducing her footfalls down to nothing.

The door was locked, as was typical for Seilien’s paranoia. She’d told him hundreds of times that bears couldn’t use doorknobs, but no, he’d insisted on maintaining city security. Good habits, he said. She unlocked the door as quietly as possible, cringing as the lock released with a heavy _chunk_. She pressed the door open silently; just barely wide enough for her to slip in; in the hopes of keeping the light out. Cobalt undid her bootlaces, sliding about the small entryway in her socks. She was hungry, but it would have to wait. She crept past the kitchen table and down the hall, glancing towards Seilien’s door. She saw it was ajar. She held her breath as she passed by, subconsciously sucking in her stomach so as to take up as little space as possible. She could have screamed, then, when her foot pressed into a faulty board, causing it to creak. In the deadness of the house it hurt her ears. She held completely still, straining to hear for any stirring.

She heard the shift of blankets, and the quiet padding of feet from Seilien’s room. She considered running for it; her room was so close.

“Cobalt?” Seilien whispered, opening his door. “Do you have any idea how late it is?”

She stared at her feet. She wiggled her toes slightly when she saw that she’d worn a hole in one of her socks. She sighed, and met Seilien’s concerned eyes. She knew somehow that he could see her clearly.

“I’m sorry,” movement caught her eye from behind him. She craned to see, but he blocked her view. “But there was this kid-he was real small, like six or something. He was lost…”

“Shh, quiet,” Seilien hushed her. “We can talk about this in the morning. I’m going back to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

“…Yes. Sorry.”

Seilien went back into his room, this time closing the door rather firmly. She felt her cheeks flush. She’d never really been in trouble with him before. She wandered to her room, wondering what sort of punishment she’d receive. With Boron it was always doing his chores, or some sort of weird punishment like making a pile of heavy rocks, only to have him knock it down. He was a kid too, though. She’d never faced the punishment of a parent.

\---

            Seilien stood for a moment by the door. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to say to her about it in the morning, since it wasn’t really a problem for him if she stayed out late. Rhenia was the one she worried, not him, after all, but he supposed ground rules could be beneficial for a girl her age. Heaven knows that he and Rhenia had strict rules when they were young. Seilien looked to Rhenia. She lay asleep in his bed, laying on her side. One of her arms hung over the side, her pale skin almost glowing in the low light. She looked much younger when she slept, for all the knowledge and power left her face.  

            He crossed the room, sliding in between her back and the wall. He didn’t bother to get under the covers; somehow that seemed too private. He smoothed back her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume, which still clung to her even in her nightclothes. He settled in, draping one of his arms over her waist, holding her lightly to him. He felt more aware now that before that she was fading. Her ribs could be felt even under the covers, and the valley between her ribcage and her hips was deep. For the first time in their lives he was the healthy one. He wasn’t sure he liked the change.


End file.
